Author's Note: Wow, guys. 108 followers and 47 favorites! This is such a huge deal to me. I can't believe how much love this story has gotten. I know I'm not the most reliable author on this website and I've left you guys hanging far more times than I can count, but thank you for the love and support you have given me and the characters that I've created thus far. Today's chapter is inspired by a song from The Greatest Showman (2017). It's fairly short compared to previous chapters, but wholesome as ever!
AS ALWAYS, please follow/favorite/review or drop a PM. I'd love to hear what you guys think so far. :)
This one's for you guys.
Chapter 9: Tightrope
Clarke POV:
An undisclosed amount of days later:
"Hey Bellamy, lets go out on a date!" I exclaimed excitedly, my eyes big with elation.
"No, no… that sounds stupid, don't be stupid Clarke," I looked to myself in the mirror, contorting my face into one of displeasure.
"Hey yo Bellamy, let's go out," I said into the mirror, flipping my hair dramatically.
"What the fuck was that? No." Idiot.
I paced around the bathroom for a couple minutes, twirling my golden locks nervously through my fingers.
I had asked Bellamy for time, and now… I felt ready to pursue something.
Except, why was I so damn nervous?
Turning back to the mirror abruptly, I exclaimed with finger guns, "Let me take you out!" This time, I almost laughed at myself. "Let me take you out…" I scoffed. "Clarke, you want to go on a date with him, not kill him," I muttered to myself, scrubbing a hand down my face in frustration.
This couldn't be that hard. Besides, I was leaving plenty of hints that I was more ready every day. There were days that I smiled a little more his way or bantered with him in a way that danced the line between humor and flirtation. There were days when I purposefully wore shirts that were more lowcut than I normally tossed on. Some slow nights at the bar, I even went and sat down with him until closing time just to make sure that he wasn't bored.
So why was my stomach in knots? Why were my palms sweaty? Why did my heart thump faster at even the mere thought of asking this man out?
This felt like some high school bullshit all over again.
Ugh, let's try this one more time… I turned to the mirror one more time, a look of determination on my face as I puffed my cheeks out. "Hey Bellamy…"
"Yeah, what's up?" the man in question asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Come to think of it, where did he come from?
"When did you get here?" I asked in the most nonchalant tone I could muster, although the beet-red tint to my cheeks gave away that I was doing something I probably wasn't supposed to.
Which I was, but that wasn't the point here!
"I just walked in the door a moment ago," he claimed. "Wondering if I could get a shower in if the Princess is done with her makeup," he remarked, one side of his lips lifting into a smile. "Might wanna ease up on the blush."
"Wait... what?!" I asked worriedly. Did he know that I was blushing because of him? No, surely not.
"Yeah, you're cakin' on that face crap. You don't even need it," he commented.
Duh, yeah. He was commenting on the makeup that I was so clearly wearing, yeah. And was that a complement? Was I supposed to say thank you or take offense? Or just not comment… yeah, that's the one.
Now that I noticed, he was wearing gym shorts and a light hoodie, and his hairline was covered in a sheen of sweat. Sue me for looking but his whole just-got-done-working-out vibe was starting to get to me.
"You just come from the gym?" I asked, picking up random pieces of makeup that I'm pretty sure were Octavia's. If he was going to accuse me of putting on makeup, then I ought to keep up the pretense and collect my makeup.
"Yeah, I was getting a little chubby," he joked, patting his stomach.
"Pfft," I muttered a laugh.
"Got something to say?" he asked, walking further into the bathroom, testing me. But how, I was unsure.
"Just that you probably don't even know what body fat is," I retorted, once again walking the tightrope between banter and flirting.
"It's like you're practically begging me to take my shirt off!" he laughed. "Go ahead, all you gotta do is ask," he teased, crossing his arms over his chest in mock bravado.
"Nah, I'll pass," I said back. For now, I thought.
"Suit yourself. Better get out of here soon before you see a little too much 'cause I got nothin' to hide!" he said while pulling a towel out of a bottom cabinet.
"Umm yeah, I'll get on that…" I stuttered, heading out of the bathroom that I was totally doing my makeup in.
I had to ask him. Now. Otherwise, I wouldn't. It wouldn't happen. Now or never, Clarke. Just do it!
"Bellamy!" I nearly yelled while turning back around to face Bellamy once again.
What I was met with was Bellamy sans shirt.
I had to force my eyes away from his chiseled frame. Those broad shoulders and lean stomach made my heart pitter-patter all the more furiously, his 'happy trail' doing similar things to my lower abdomen.
"What's up?" he smirked, knowing the reason for my silence. Cocky asshole.
And yet still… "Would you maybe wanna go out tonight and get some burgers?" I asked lamely, trying with all my might to avoid looking at his chest. If I thought seeing and feeling him in the dark was a whirlwind of emotions, then gazing the real thing in broad daylight was so much more. The fact that I couldn't touch him right here and now just made me more antsy, and perhaps even more confident – at least, enough so to ask him out.
"So, like, a date?" he asked, not bothering to cover up. Damn him. A tentative grin lit up his face.
"Don't put words in my mouth," I reprimanded. "But… well, yes." His smile only grew, and I let myself do the same. "So, yeah… tonight…" I finished while walking backwards from the bathroom, reluctant to take my eyes off him, bumping into the doorframe.
"Tonight," he smiled back.
I turned the corner from the bathroom, graciously ready to go to my room and take an ice pack to my face to cool it down.
I broke out into a big grin.
"And Clarke?" he asked from the bathroom. I didn't turn around but stopped in my tracks to signal that I was listening. "You had me sold at the finger guns," he laughed while turning the shower on.
I was fairly certain that my face couldn't get any redder.
Later that night:
We sat across from each other.
I picked at the sleeve of my knitted sweater.
He tapped his foot incessantly.
I picked up a fry to nibble on and took a small bite of my cheeseburger.
I watched the condensation on my glass of soda.
I looked up at Bellamy and smiled briefly before glancing away.
And repeat.
Why did this feel so difficult? The date didn't feel forced, but it certainly wasn't natural either. Was there something wrong with me? Was there something wrong with him? Did I read everything wrong and he just didn't want to be here? Did I eat my burger weird?
My mind was running amok and a sense of anxiety began to set in – anxiety I hadn't felt since going on dates with Finn, not knowing if he was in a good mood or a bad mood, or wanting to be loving, or wanting to cause a scene. Bellamy had that same unpredictability about him, yet different in a way that I knew he wouldn't fly off the handle about miniscule irks regarding his day or myself. I just wished he would say something! Do something! It was like we were trapped in an endless limbo.
We had been here in the restaurant for almost an hour now, and I could count the amount of times we had actually conversed from the car ride over to right now on one hand.
Every conversation starter simply didn't feel right. How was your day? What's your favorite color? What do you do for a job? Coke or Pepsi?
The thing was: I already knew the answers to those questions! Good after that workout and the shower, blue, bartender, Coke obviously.
Wait… how did I know all that?
Fry, burger, toe-tap, condensation, smile, look away.
The tension was about as thick as dense fog and navigating through it seemed impossible.
I guess in all my time of hating Bellamy Blake, I learned a thing or two about him. AND THEN I started to like the guy. Wasn't I doing this out of order? Wasn't I supposed to like him, learn everything about him, then hate him after we got married and grew old and grumpy together? "What the fuck…" I grumbled to myself, wondering what far left field that thought came out of.
Bellamy looked to me with shocked eyes, most likely thinking that I cussed at him and not to my heinous thoughts.
"Sorry, just had a weird thought… about a dream I had the other night," I rambled. He still looked to me with questioning eyes. And then the word-vomit began. "You know, even though Sigmund Freud's hypotheses have been contradicted and built on, his theories on the unconscious mind used to be my favorite – how we just manifest our common-most thoughts in the back of our heads. And then this theory of the unconscious just takes a whole new toll when you factor in second-phase horror films, and –"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa Clarke! Slow down, take a breath," Bellamy consoled. "Are you nervous? Cause I'm nervous," he admitted with a reassuring smile.
I let out a calming puff of breath, feeling the stress roll away. "Very nervous." I laughed now, resting my head in the palm of my hand.
"Same here!" Bellamy exclaimed. "I don't even know why, we basically went on a bunch of dates over the past couple weeks."
"How do you figure?" I asked, taking a sip of my soda.
"All those nights you closed with me at the bar? It had all the basic elements of a date," he said matter-of-fact. "I bought you dinner – well, more like gave you free food, but not the point. We had drinks. I walked you home – or we Ubered or took a taxi, once again, not the point. And then I told you goodnight at the door, even though we live a hallway and five steps away from each other. Again, not the point." He took a moment to breathe, looking to be steeling himself for whatever he would say next. "And then I would stand there – in the hallway, not the point – and daydream about kissing you. But I've been too chicken shit to actually do it," he finished with.
A waiter walked by at that same time, giving Bellamy a dirty look for using such 'crude' language. I snarled at the judgy man before turning my full attention back to Bellamy. "Well despite the fact that you are too, indeed, chicken shit," I said loudly to piss off the snotty waiter. "Every single time I shut the door behind me – the door that was, as you said, a hallway and five steps away. But not the point, right? Anyway, all I could think was that I really, really wanted you to kiss me."
He nodded a few times, looking down towards his tater tots bashfully. "Cool," he said rather lamely, but the smile that broke out on his face spoke volumes.
I smiled too, and bit into my burger.
Fry, burger, toe-tapping, condensation, smile, look away.
Yet this time, no tension.
We were both full after the burgers, and happily turned down dessert. I had made the wise decision that we should walk back to the apartment to chase away the calories. "God, when did this hill get so big?" I asked.
"You cannot possibly be that tired!" he exclaimed. "We're almost there, just hold out 'til then Princess. Should've ordered you a carriage," he muttered.
"Perhaps you should have," I sassed, pretending not to be totally out of breath for five seconds.
"Here, let's take a seat for a few minutes. I'm in no rush to end this," he smiled.
I grinned back to him, showing my teeth.
Now that the initial awkwardness was gone, it felt like nothing but smooth sailing. It was just like all the other times we had hung out, but now we were… doing something new. I think.
This was a date, not just hanging out. It was new, but it already felt familiar.
We talked about everything and nothing, and generally just got to know each other better, no matter how insignificant the topic.
"So that was the one time Octavia had to drive me home after I drank too much. She gave me so much shit for that one," I laughed, recalling the time I challenged Jasper to a drinking contest. It was like going up against the manufacturer of his own product. "Why I did that, I have no idea. Well… wait, it was after finals one semester and I remember it was a particularly hard one at that. Okay, yeah, that makes sense…"
"You're a freaking in-the-closet wild child, aren't you?" Bellamy asked, laughing.
"Ehhh, something like that," I replied in a faux cocky tone.
"Don't deny it Princess," he chided.
"Why do you call me that?" I segued.
He took a moment to respond. "Well, when I first met you and even before then when Octavia told me all about you and your family, you just seemed like the type of person who would be stuck-up… like everyone was below you. You were royalty and everyone else was just your loyal subjects and commoners," he said with a large sigh and a frown.
My cheeks began to heat up at his admission. I couldn't fault him for his honesty, yet I was reminded of why we didn't get along in the first place; it was the reason I hadn't tried to pursue him any sooner and only reminded me of our previously bitter animosity.
"But with time, I got over myself and realized that you… you were so much more than that." He gazed deep into my eyes, allowing me to see the truth in them.
"Yeah?" I asked after a long pause, searching for something to fill the void of tensionless silence.
"Well let's just say that some while back Octavia forced me to watch some classic Disney Princess movies, and I realized that princesses were more than stuck up brats. They were compassionate, honest, caring, willful, responsible, and beautiful inside and out." He paused. "And Clarke, you put all those damn Disney princesses to shame," he finally admitted with a light-hearted smile.
"Wow…" I said in wonder. That was surprisingly heavy. "I just… I can't wait… to tell everyone you marathoned Disney princesses!" I broke out into a fit of giggles, him following suit.
"You can't tell anyone, or else…" he threatened.
"Oh whatever Blake, I finally have dirt on you and your evil genius of a sister to back it up," I laughed.
"Fine, fine! You got me. I'm all yours, just don't let that power go to your head," he calmed down, gently poking my temple with the tip of his finger.
"Oh, I so own you now," I joked for the final time, leaning into his touch ever-so-slightly. "Hey, can we go back now?" I asked, feeling the chill of the late evening set in.
"Sure," he said, while getting up and stretching his limbs. His shirt rode up just slightly to where I could see a peek of his tanned stomach.
"Home?" he asked.
"Home," I smiled.
We walked back mostly in silence, listening to the cars driving by and smelling different bar foods. The sun had nearly set all the way when we got back to the complex, and by the time we made it back inside the quaint quarters, the sky was blackened by night.
I was mildly thankful that Octavia was not home. At some time during the date, Bellamy and I had decided that we wouldn't tell Octavia about this – whatever it was – right away. Neither one of us could gage her potential reaction and we felt that we could tell her about it if appropriate. But not yet.
Besides, keeping this our little secret was kind of exciting, like a fantasy I never got to live back in high school from a disapproving parent.
And so, the night had to end as he walked me back to my room. We walked slower than normal, still not in a rush to end the night. I was dragging my feet, scuffing my boots against the ground as I walked to physically slow myself down.
"So I have a compromise for you Bellamy," I said to him when we got to my door, turning around and clasping my hands behind my back, definitely not to accentuate my breasts. Definitely not.
"And what might that be?" he asked, intrigued.
"I won't tell anyone you liked watching Disney princess movies –"
"I never said I liked them," he interrupted.
"Nobody else knows that," I teased. "So, I won't tell anyone you liked watching Disney princess movies IF you stop being a chicken shit," I hinted, referencing our earlier conversation.
He smiled wide, moving his hands to cup my face and finally – finally – brushing his lips against my own. All the butterflies came rushing back, but not out of nervousness. More like anticipation.
And then I kissed back, wrapping my arms loosely around his middle, standing more on my tip toes to lessen the strain on his neck. Instead of fighting for dominance, we worked in tandem to create a pleasurable pressure for each other, never taking too much but never giving too much also. The kiss remained tender, never pushing a boundary that we weren't necessarily ready to cross. And the roaming of his hands remained rather platonic, sliding from my neck to my arms and back. There was nothing dirty about the kiss, no tongue, and no promise of more to come this night. The whole kiss of itself was rather platonic in the most unplatonic way possible.
But this kiss?
It was absolutely everything.
So what did you think? Looks like our favorite love birds are FINALLY getting somewhere! Yay! Let me know what you think and what you want to see in the coming chapters! :) Keep it classy, everyone.
